Progress
by Super Chocolate Bear
Summary: Regeneration is a strange process, looking from the inside out.
1. One

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_**Progress**_

_**One**_

"I'm afraid this body of mine is wearing a little thin."

He collapsed awkwardly on the TARDIS console, and he could sense Ben and Polly gathering around him, lowering him gently to the floor.

The moment was upon him. He had known for some time; although not before landing on the South Pole, unfortunately. Perhaps then he would have diverted the TARDIS somewhere peaceful, somewhere he could explain the process to Ben and Polly. As it was… he would have to tell them with a new face.

Regeneration wasn't something the Time Lords had ever really prepared him for. He had been told he wasn't a 'natural', whatever that meant. Others could choose their new appearance, even going so far as to 'try on' different faces until they found one that suited. But not him.

This body _was _old, he knew that. The years he had lived without regenerating… considering his lifestyle choice, it was somewhat of a miracle. He had been convinced the Medusa Cascade was going to be the end of him, but he survived through that. Daleks, War Machines, now Cybermen… he had survived them all. It was just fatigue, now. Weariness.

…

He was scared. It was all such a mystery to him. Would he be the same, just with a new face? Or would he be a new man entirely? Would he remember Ben and Polly? Ian, Barbara?

…Susan?

Would he still fight against injustices like the Daleks? Would he have the same sense of right and wrong? He was _told _that something survived through all regenerations, but what, exactly? And how much changed? The Master was the only other Time Lord he had known through different regenerations, but he had just displayed a different kind of insanity with each new face. It was difficult to tell if he had changed that much.

Sensing his fear, the TARDIS helped him along.

He hoped he would at least have more hair.

* * *

(A/N: After hearing the Doctor's line in 'The End of Time' about how regeneration 'feels like dying', it really made me reconsider all of the regenerations I'd seen, and this fic came out. It's quite a messy blend of ideas in my head, but I hope I can make my thoughts on the subject clear through this series of one-shots.

Anyway, all reviews welcome!)


	2. Two

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_**Progress**_

_**Two**_

"No!"

This was an injustice. This was… unconscionable, disgusting, vile… everything he fought against was now being forced upon him.

And by his own people, no less.

Their punishment for the War Lord was despicable enough, but what they did to Jamie and Zoë… oh, poor Jamie and Zoë. He would miss them so.

Or would he? He didn't know. A single regeneration does not make one an expert in the process. Far from it, in fact. It had merely made him more unsure about the outcome. His personality _had _changed. He remembered everything he had done with his first face, remembered his thoughts and feelings when he had said goodbye to Susan, when he had met Ian and Barbara for the first time…

But he _was _a different man now. He would look back on those days and wonder why he had been such a stuffy schoolmaster about the whole business. Now he approached things differently, and couldn't imagine doing it any other way.

So he was a new man. But was he entirely new? When he saw the Daleks kill someone, he felt the same anger he always did. That same sense of… justice, rising up in him like thunder. It gave him hope.

But there would be nothing he could do for Jamie and Zoë… their memories blocked, returned to their own time periods… they wouldn't remember him, especially now with a new face, a new temperament…

Not that he could travel through time to find them, anyway. The Doctor, banished to Earth, in one time period? Outrageous!

And to force the regeneration on him in this way…

Something that had only occurred to him after the regeneration, looking back on how different he was now… it was that his previous incarnation was, for all intents and purposes, dead. That man would never be seen again.

Just as this face would never be seen again, changing into someone new. As this new person, he would remember being _this _Doctor. Being remembered was a way of living on, he supposed.

But that wasn't much consolation. He would never experience anything else with these eyes, touch anything with these hands. Never again. He may as well be dead.

This was murder. The Time Lords were murdering him, and putting it under the more acceptable title of 'Change of appearance'.

He would never forget it.

* * *

(A/N: This regeneration _really _stuck out in my head when the Doctor compared the process to death. The Time Lords were jerks _way _before they tried to end time.

Anyway, reviews welcome, as always!)


	3. Three

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_**Progress**_

_**Three**_

"A tear, Sarah Jane? No, don't cry. While there's life, there's…"

Yet another person he hadn't prepared for regeneration. At least, he assumed he was going to regenerate. His first had been of natural causes and the second forced upon him by hands far more adept at the technique than he. Radiation was something entirely different.

When he had stumbled into the TARDIS, he had been determined to find his friends. He needed to say goodbye to Liz. And Jo… he desperately needed to tell her that he was proud of her, that he understood completely… and that he valued her so very much. But instead, weak and barely conscious, he had become lost in the time vortex. Only the TARDIS managed to bring him home.

Because he knew what regeneration was now; difficult to put into words. The irony. Him, the master of words, and he couldn't describe a simple biological function.

It _was_ death. Definitive. Swift. The person he was now would cease to exist once the process took hold. That was made clear to him when he met his previous selves. So different from him, he sometimes wondered how they could possibly be the same person.

And yet…

He also lived on, because he _remembered _regenerating. He remembered being his previous self, and then his current incarnation. The two moments flowed quickly, almost jarringly.

And there was something else that remained. Not just memories, but his… essence. The stronger aspects of his personality. His sense of right and wrong, his love for the universe, and indeed, life in general… even his sense of humour. All of it seemed to survive the process relatively intact.

He hoped he would survive, even with a new face. Sarah Jane deserved that. Perhaps he could accept her more readily with whatever new personality he would possess. It wasn't her fault, of course… but no-one could replace Jo. Not so quickly. He wondered if he would care for Jo and Katy in his next life. Jamie and Zoë and Barbara and Ian, even Susan… they all seemed like nothing but fond memories now, somehow unobtainable after so much change.

Perhaps that was for the best. They were fond of the respective Doctors they knew best. It wouldn't do for them to learn that the man they had travelled with was dead yet still alive in the stranger stood before them, echoes of the man they knew haunting them with every gesture or flicker of the eyes.

While there's life, there's hope. But only hope for the future. The past died every time he changed.

* * *

(A/N: In an odd bit of timing, it's just been announced that Jo Grant is going to be appearing in _Sarah Jane Adventures_, along with the Doctor. Should be interesting!

Anyway, reviews welcome, as always!)


	4. Four

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_**Progress**_

_**Four**_

"It's the end. But the moment has been prepared for."

He had lived for a long time in this form. He had done much, almost as much as his first face. Although not quite. He doubted any of his future incarnations would ever rival the accomplishments and longevity of his first face. Which was still _his _face, technically.

Regeneration philosophy. Bah. 'For the boring and the inane', that was what Romana had said. He wished she were here now, helping guide him through the process. It still frightened him, even now.

He used to think that he should be old hat about it, that he should be used to it by now. But then he had witnessed Romana's easy, controlled regeneration. Seeing her callous attitude towards the process had only strengthened his own, although he had never said so to her. It was easy to be callous about the process when you could control it, he supposed.

But for him, while he was in this form… he was one of a kind. When he regenerated, he would be gone. He could only be remembered. Of course, it wasn't a literal death, because his mind and body, however altered by regeneration, still lived on. But it may as well be a death, because this unique combination of everything that made him who he was would be gone forever. Certain traits and aspects may repeat themselves in later faces, but never in the exact order they were in now. That was why the Doctor treated every life as if it was the only one he had.

Which was why his experience with the Watcher had been so disconcerting. Funny experience, being told you were going to die, with no degree of uncertainty or wiggle-room. He couldn't exactly debate it; the Watcher was _him _telling _himself, _after all. But he couldn't deny the fact that he didn't want to go, that if there was any way for him to get out of it, he would take it. He had become rather accustomed to this face, after all.

And he couldn't help but wonder… had he behaved differently because he knew he was going to die? Taken things more gravely, or more callously, than the occasion demanded?

…fallen at an awkward angle so a fall that any Time Lord could have survived instead broke his neck?

Hm. Things with him were never simple. That was something Sarah had said many times. A pang of regret had hit him as he had thought of her while hanging from that scaffold. He had never gone back to her. He doubted he ever would. It wasn't high on his list of plans with _this _face, so who knew what he would feel about the subject once he changed.

Whatever he changed into. He wasn't well versed on the subject, obviously, but he was fairly certain nothing quite like the Watcher had happened before to other Time Lords. Perhaps if the mood struck him he would look into it later.

But he doubted it very much. He had others to look after, he couldn't be worrying them with all of his fears and anxieties about a process none of them would understand.

He wondered what would become of the three gathered around him. Would they continue to travel with him after the change? He hoped so. Particularly Adric. Promising young boy, that one, something of a protégé. He would do great things.

* * *

(A/N: As always everyone, read and review!)


	5. Five

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_**Progress**_

_**Five**_

"Adric?"

Oh, poor Adric. He had lost travelling companions before, but that loss had hurt him far more deeply. It was more than just losing a friend… he felt like he had been entrusted with something precious. Perhaps it was the fondness he had felt for him before his regeneration, hoping he would achieve great things.

A responsibility for him to bear, before he was even born (although 'born' seemed like a rather strong term).

That seemed to be fairly run of the mill for this face; so many responsibilities and burdens and pain… it was meant to be irony, he supposed, regenerating into such a young, carefree body and then being weighed down by so much.

Irony was rarely amusing, he found.

As much irony as meeting his younger selves and feeling _intimidated_. It should have been the reverse, surely. But there he was, wondering how he could live up to an example that _he himself _had set. And yet, as he was constantly reminded, not him. Or at least, not him at this precise moment. He often wondered if he would have made different choices in the past few years if he had not had this face, if perhaps his fourth had survived until the encounter with the Cybermen… perhaps then Adric would still be alive.

But he did enjoy being this man. He felt refreshed, having so much energy and verve… and a part of him enjoyed how much his enemies underestimated him with such a young, babyish face. It was something he hadn't enjoyed since his second incarnation. Enemies underestimating him, that is, not the babyish face.

So different, and yet still so very similar. It amazed him how consistent he was, through four (well, five now, he supposed) traumatic, potentially brain-scrambling regenerations… and yet, his sense of purpose and will remained the same. True, it was sometimes buried under varying degrees of pomposity or irascibility or bumbling foolishness… but it was still there.

He wondered if those aspects would survive the Spectrox toxaemia poisoning. He could feel the regeneration, but… it was different. The toxaemia had done something to his body. A stab of fear hit him when he considered the possibility that he might die.

Although something more told him he _would _regenerate. He wasn't sure what it was… all he could think about was a hole in the universe the exact size of Belgium. Perhaps he would remember later. Whenever he met a future version of himself, the laws of time effectively blocked the event from his memory, the recollections only becoming clear in his mind once he became the future Doctor in question and even then, usually only once the event itself was over (wouldn't want to make things _too _easy, would we?). Perhaps this was one of those occasions.

He very much hoped he would regenerate. And if he did, he hoped those strong aspects would endure. For Peri's sake, if no-one else's. Hopefully he would be gentle with her after the regeneration, take into account how difficult this process was for those looking from the outside in.

He was still the Doctor, after all. How much could he change?

* * *

(A/N: I'll admit that while Four might make me laugh more, Five is probably my favourite of the classic Doctors. Although we're supposed to stop thinking of them as separate shows now, I think.

Anyway, reviews please!)


	6. Six

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Doctor Who.**_

_**Progress**_

_**Six**_

"Now, where shall we go today, hm?"

BANG.


	7. Seven

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

**_Progress_**

**_Seven  
_**

"Timing malfunction. The Master! He's out there. I've got to stop him."

Well. _That _was embarrassing. And more than a little painful. Shot in a crossfire, and then sliced open and killed. All of it by humans. Although technically it _was _the Master's fault, crafty weasel that he was. Who else could survive execution by the Daleks? But still, and perhaps not unpredictably, humans ended up being the end of him.

_Not _the way he would have preferred to die. If he had to die at all. Saving the universe, perhaps? Wiping out a plague? Stopping a war?

No, he just got shot. _By accident_. The indignity of it. Ace would now doubt laugh, if she were there. Although, actually, no, she probably wouldn't, come to think of it. Very emotional girl, that one. She probably wouldn't appreciate him being shot and operated on by humans with no knowledge of Time Lord anatomy.

Whatever she had made of herself, he hoped she was happy. He knew he had put her through so much, but only because he knew she could do great things. And also, in a tiny, miniscule, so-small-you-can-barely-see-it-way, to show off his incredible skills of manipulation and foresight.

Mel, also, he hoped was all right. Although he had never been quite taken with her the way his previous face had been. He remembered thinking he would travel with her for years… and then, with a sudden jolt of the TARDIS and a whack of the head on the console, it all changed. He had still cared for her, obviously, as much as he did for any living thing. But he didn't feel invigorated by her, not in the same way he remembered Sarah Jane or Jo or Jamie and Zoë or Susan doing.

Two embarrassing deaths in a row. Hopefully the next one would have more grandeur, more purpose. Higher stakes, perhaps.

If there was a next one. The effects being heavily sedated and cut open would have on regeneration weren't exactly apparent to him, and once again he cursed his own inability to simply _look up_ the information on Gallifrey. Although, in fairness, the last time he visited his home he was put on trial to cover something the Time Lords had done, working in conjunction with an evil version of himself from the future.

The Valeyard had bothered him when he had his previous face, but after the change, he couldn't help but think that perhaps adopting a little bit of the Valeyard's attitude wouldn't be a bad thing. He was a Time Lord, after all. Show those non-interfering bureaucrats how it should be done. Who's to say that he shouldn't have a bit more control over what goes on in the universe? Not too much, obviously. But he had self control, a powerful will that endured through the regenerations. He could handle it. An intriguing thought. Perhaps he would follow it up if he changed.

And if not, it was just one more regret compounded upon seven lifetimes' worth. He hoped he would survive.

He wasn't done yet.

* * *

(A/N: Apologies to fans of the Sixth Doctor, I couldn't resist. While his last onscreen words were 'Carrot juice', I went with a more educated guess about what his final utterance could be. Since Six was so short, I thought I'd throw in Seven at the same time.

Anyway, as usual, reviews please!)


	8. Eight

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_**Progress**_

_**Eight  
**_

"Goodbye."

The Moment was unleashed. Everything burned. Everything died, reduced to nothing. Suspended in time, locked within, never to escape.

Except for him. Somehow he was allowed to survive, to get away unharmed. The things he had seen, the things that had been done, that 'had to be done'… by the end, he hadn't known who the enemy was.

Everyone. Everyone seemed to lose their senses. A never-ending struggle, locked away and hidden yet disturbing the very fabric of the universe, of time and space…

She had told him to use it. He had been hesitant, and she had comforted him, telling him that it should be, that it had to be. They knew they wouldn't see each other again. He had wept as he piloted the TARDIS away, prepared the Moment, held it in his hands…

So long ago now, he had shown the constellations to Grace, pointing out Gallifrey, hoping that he would be able to take her there someday. Now the stars above his head were replaced by an inferno. Pain flowed over him, over the TARDIS, burning them both. Remnants of the Moment, echoes of it killing him slowly. It was his penance. It was only fair, after all.

For the first time, he hoped he didn't regenerate. Perhaps it would be better if all Time Lords were removed from existence, that every last trace of them be wiped clean.

He remembered his last face, how his thoughts and methods had disturbingly echoed what the Time Lord council had proposed in the final stages of the war. Perhaps not their plan, but definitely their way of thinking. They were the Time Lords. They should have dominion and control over all. Perhaps if the name of Rassilon had not been invoked so easily, if they had tried to find another way…

Perhaps if he had accepted the position of Time Lord President all those years ago, taken on his responsibilities instead of hiding, running away, as he always did. Or if he had refused the Time Lords' plan to stop the genesis of the Daleks… if he hadn't destroyed Skaro with the Hand of Omega, shown some restraint…

Maybe then this would never have happened. That was why he had taken it upon himself to use the Moment. In some way, this horror was because of him. He needed to stop running.

Gone now. All of them. Just as _he_ should be. He didn't want to take the risk. What if he became just like them?

He tried to hold back the regeneration. The TARDIS, in flames, still attempting to heal itself, objected and worked against him.

Even if he did change now, what kind of man would he be, born out of blood and death and revenge?

* * *

(A/N: Eight's last onscreen words were actually 'Oh no, not again,' which I didn't think really worked with him ending the Time War (although I have since found out there _have_ been several Time Wars in his books, much to my confusion).

But yeah, anyway, reviews please!)


	9. Nine

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_**Progress**_

_**Nine**_

"Before I go, I just wanted to say that you were fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. And you know what? So was I."

He was happy. There had been a time when he thought he would never be happy again. Rose had changed that. She had made him better without even realising, and he would never be able to thank her enough.

He would never say another word to her, in fact. Not like this.

It was odd, saying goodbye to somebody when you knew you were going to be standing in front of them in a few seconds time. And he would like to say that it was all for her benefit, but it wasn't. _He _was going to die, and be replaced by another man. He had to say goodbye.

Once he changed and he was another person, he would feel like it was all a bit pointless and melodramatic, of course, as he always did. But now, before the change, while he was _this_ Doctor, he needed to give her a proper farewell. Because she had saved him, and, by extension, every other face that was to follow.

Initially, he hadn't enjoyed having this face. He had felt uncomfortable in his own skin, wondering why he was still alive, if he even _should _be alive. But through Rose, and Jack, and yes, even Jackie and Mickey the idiot, he had rediscovered everything he used to love about the universe. He had been able to release at least some of the guilt for what had been done during the Time War.

Stupid apes saving the Last of the Time Lords. Made him grin just thinking about it. It was a shame he had to die again to re-learn how to love life, but… dying for her, for a single precious human life was worth it. It always was.

And for the first time in many years, he felt at peace. He had hope for the future. Yes, he was going to die. But it was strange; he felt… fulfilled. Content. As though he had done everything he needed to with this face.

Although he regretted he had been so reluctant to engage in domestics. It had hurt Rose, he knew that. And he hoped, as this new man, he wouldn't hurt her in such a way again.

* * *

(A/N: Nine probably had the happiest ending of any of the Doctor's incarnations so far. Though he did spent most of his tenure behaving as if he wanted to die, so maybe it isn't that surprising that he seemed his most content just as he was about to regenerate.

Anyway, reviews please!)


	10. Ten

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

___**Progress**_

___**Ten  
**_

"I don't want to go."

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't the dying in itself that was unfair… why he felt so betrayed by the universe. And it wasn't that he had to die for Wilf, sacrifice himself for one man who was approaching the end of his life anyway. It was his honour.

After Adelaide's death, he had started to think as he had at the end of the war. That perhaps Time Lords lived too long, and were destined to become corrupt no matter how hard they tried. He started to think that his life _should _end. Penance for the sins of a Time Lord.

Of course, he had always been ready to die. He had been ready to let himself be murdered by a Plasmavore to save thousands of people, to be pulled into a black hole with the Beast to save the universe, to have his mind burned out to save a library computer full of survivors. And so he had resigned himself to the fact that he would die as result of the Master and his four drumbeats, or saving all of existence from Rassilon.

But then he had heard those four knocks. And he realised just how little he had learnt from the corruption of his own people. An injury to one is an injury to all. There are no little people. Dying for one person is just as worthy, if not more so, than dying for many. And by travelling alone, he had forgotten that.

Wilf was right. He needed Donna, or someone like her. He always had. Someone to stop him… and yeah, someone to make him laugh. When he travelled with someone, he was ready to sacrifice himself to save a single human on the Dalek Crucible, to strand himself in 14th century France for one woman, to goad a Dalek into killing him in outrage over the death of one man.

He needed someone to remind him of the value of a single human life. Alone, he became a Time Lord Victorious. With someone by his side, he was the Doctor.

He had been so angry at Wilf, at the universe, but most of all at himself. The unfairness, the true injustice of it all… it was that he had to die again to truly learn that lesson. He could have done so much more with this face. _So much more._

He would never find the new companion as this man. He would never race ahead of them with an 'Allons-y' and smile at the little shops and the different ways he could pronounce words like 'Kaput' and enjoy the little touches like his clever glasses and worn trainers… he would be gone. Everything that made him the particular, individual Doctor he was at the moment would die. Just as he told Wilf.

The energy was building in him now, more powerful than it had ever been before. He shouldn't have held it back for so long. But he had _needed_ to track down his friends, his 'family', before the regeneration. Not to 'fix' their lives in huge, grand gestures, but just to nudge them in the right direction, help them in small, humanways. And yes, just to see them with these eyes, help them with these hands one more time… it was his reward.

It was time. In a few moments this iteration of him, the sadness he felt, would distort and change and ripple… and then he would be a new man. And everything he had done, and, hopefully, everything he had learnt with this face would be remembered and carried with him.

Blimey, he hoped he would be ginger.

* * *

(A/N: This is the chapter that inspired this whole story, really. Something about the reactions I read to Ten's fear of regeneration, as though it was un-Doctor-like, cowardly, rubbed me the wrong way. It felt like a revelation to me about _all _of the Doctor's regenerations, not just Russell T Davies making a grab for artificial sympathy. Although it's all opinion, I suppose.

Well, that's that. Maybe I'll add to this story a few years down the line when Eleven's swan-song hits the TV.

Anyway, please review, and thanks for reading, everyone!)


End file.
